The Inner Gardens
by katBelle
Summary: Itachi's told to keep to the main house but when he ventures into Mikoto's gardens he finds a slave boy with eyes of a dragon. Instantly fascinated with the beautiful boy, Itachi wonders why he's kept at Mikoto's side? And what would it be like to kiss those lips? itasasu.
1. Chapter 1

**a/n: **The cover photo was done by yukidomari and is actually what inspired me to try pseudo-historical piece. I say pseudo because this is a fictional universe and only contains the aesthetics (and not historically accurate facts) of this time period. Slavery in Japan was probably not at all how I'm about to portray it.

* * *

Chapter 1

The inner gardens were his mother's. It was the only area forbidden to Itachi within the main house and that fact only made it more beautiful and desirable to him. He was forever longing to enter through the red gates of wood, cedar that creaked in the slightest breeze. In sunshine the wooden gates released a spicy aroma, so warm and intoxicating that Itachi would press his face to the planks and inhale deeply. He began to associate that warm, comforting scent to the woman behind the wall. That scent and his mind turned the woman into something quite different than the cold distant mother he knew.

He saw her occasionally: at the feast of the New Year and weddings. She was beautiful. Her feet were small, like the rest of her petite body, and only the barest hint of white sock poked out from the hem of her kimono. Her black hair was perfectly straight and framed her moon-white face in long strands. Her most remarkable feature however was her eyes.

Itachi and his father's grey eyes, pierced with silver lines, were extraordinary themselves and stood apart from the usual dark brown of their countrymen. But Mikoto had the eyes of a goddess, the pure and endless black of the night sky. It was whispered that her father had been a dragon. That Fugaku had found her in the mountains, bathing naked beneath a waterfall and claimed her as his wife. No one whispered these things to Itachi of course. But he often heard the slaves in the kitchen talking as he crawled beneath the porch, searching for salamanders. Everyone agreed that Mikoto possessed an unearthly beauty. Yet none could agree on the circumstance of her birth. It was once proposed that she was not of noble blood at all- that she was from a poor family or even a slave herself until Fugaku had bought her. But the slave who had spoken this idea was shushed at once, a fortunate thing as Itachi was becoming uncharacteristically angry at the insult to his family.

All this gossip made Itachi intent on asking her himself. If he was honest with himself it wasn't only curiosity that drove him across the wall that day. It seemed wrong to him that he had never shared a conversation with the woman who'd birthed him and he didn't care if she wasn't entirely human. Even the stray, mangy bitches that howled outside the Uchiha compound cared for their pups until grown. Whatever Mikoto was, Itachi was also (at least by half) and he began to climb the stone wall that encircled the inner gardens with every intention of verbalizing his logic to her.

The rock was easily scaled. He'd already peeked into the gardens from atop many times. Sakura trees brushed over the ledge atop the wall, gnarled branches heavy with blossoms. Outside the pink blossoms had already fallen to be replaced by new green growth. Somehow, though, time seemed captured in the inner gardens. The clouds of blushing petals lingered on, tops shifting as wind blew overhead.

The red cedar gate creaked as Itachi swung his bare legs over the top of the wall. Despite a harsh adherence to discipline, his father was surprisingly progressive, perhaps because he was a businessman. He therefore allowed Western practices within his home and even wore the starched white shirts and trousers to work. Itachi despised the ties that choked his neck but enjoyed the freedom trousers gave him while running about. Still, for this visit Itachi had decided to don traditional garb. His long hair swung down his back as he hiked the kimono higher up his thighs before making the leap down into his mother's garden.

His young heart pounded as he stood there on forbidden grounds. The sense of doing something terribly wrong struck him. He hoped fervently that Father did not discover his transgression. At the same time however everything seemed like a perfectly normal afternoon. The gardens were quiet. A pavilion stood over a deep pond, the waters calm beneath a few faint ripples. A cloud drifted overhead and cast a spot of blue-grey shadow into the turquoise water.

Itachi walked cautiously down a wooden walkway. The planks lifted his feet over small streams and islands of grass that looked deceitfully sturdy. Sakura trees rose from the miniature islands and a few lone blossoms floated atop the clear water, swirling down the swift threads and disappearing under Itachi's feet. He reached the pond where the pavilion stood and still his mother was not in sight. But then he heard it. At first he thought it was his imagination, a phantom of the wind that his mind had conjured up; for how could a sound so delightful, so well matched to a garden of sunshine be true? But it came again, a peal of child's laughter across the glassy pond.

It crossed his mind to wonder why a child would be here in his mother's domain where not even Itachi was allowed. The thought passed quickly. The sound was coming from a cluster of trees and bamboo that separated Mikoto's house from the pond. It was a false forest, built in deliberate ringed terraces. Itachi rushed up the winding steps and through a path lined with green stalks, eagerly chasing the child's laughs. He stopped abruptly when he laid eyes on the child and his breath caught in his chest. He immediately slunk back into the leaves so he could watch without detection.

The child was pushing a toy sailboat against the current of a small stream. Clear water gushed over the ship's helm and splashed over the boy's thin arms, causing his light-hearted giggles. He looked small, at least a few years younger than Itachi's own ten years of age. Mikoto was there also, lounging on a bench. A book was in her lap but it was clear to Itachi that she had not been reading it for some time. She was too busy watching the boy playing and every so often he would glance over his shoulder to her and receive a bright smile. For a moment Itachi felt anger. Why should this tiny creature be allotted his mother's affections when he was not? But then the little thing jumped into the stream, stomping at the yielding water and Itachi couldn't help but smile.

He studied the boy closer, wondering who he was. He had never seen him in the main house. Was he always hidden here with Mikoto? The only clue Itachi had was his hair. The child was still young enough that his hair was short. But even if the child was younger than he looked, surely it shouldn't be that short, sheared close to his head. Only slaves wore their hair cut short.

Given the possibility Itachi wiggled closer through bamboo stalks and began to train his gaze on the boy's neck. The plants knocked together and the leaves rustled. The boy turned in Itachi's direction and Itachi was afraid he'd been caught. A moment later the boy turned away. The pause in his energetic movements had given Itachi what he sought. He'd glimpsed a black mark at the base of the boy's neck. A slave tattoo.

It answered the question of who the boy was but not why he was here with Mikoto, and certainly not why he was playing so freely and happily. He only knew that he did not act like a slave and Mikoto did not treat him as one. In fact the boy was allowed to touch the noble lady, an offense that warranted death.

The boy abandoned the sailboat and ran to cling to Mikoto's arm. He jumped up and down on the balls of his feet. A whine slipped into his high voice but he grinned up at Mikoto as he complained of his hunger. Mikoto rose from the bench. Her hair tumbled over her shoulder as her kimono settled down at her ankles. She promised to bring back lunch if the child promised to stay put. He agreed solemnly.

As soon as Mikoto was out of sight the boy turned towards Itachi.

"Who are you?" he asked petulantly.

Itachi emerged from the bamboo and tried to hide a smile at the boy's stance. Spread feet, fisted hands, and – suddenly the desire to smile vanished for Itachi had seen the boy's eyes. They were black as the night sky.

"No, who are you?" Itachi asked.

The boy did not answer. Itachi put his thumb against the boy's neck, against the skin inked black. "Who are you?" he demanded.

The boy slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" he cried.

Itachi opened his mouth to yell at the ignorant child, to tell him that he was Uchiha Itachi and heir of this house and that a slave didn't deserve eyes more beautiful than even Mikoto's. But he said nothing. Instead he stepped around the angry boy, into the cool stream. He bent over and his hair slipped down to brush the water's surface. He nudged a smooth rock with his bare foot and when a shadow darted out he swooped down and grabbed it. When he straightened the boy was at his side staring at his hand, intently curious. Itachi smiled at his open-eyed stare and opened his hand to reveal a squirming salamander.

The slave boy reached out and stroked its wet skin tentatively. He giggled when it wiggled in Itachi's hand. "What is it?" he asked.

"It's called a salamander. It's said they are descended from the sea dragons."

"Really?" the boy asked excitedly as he stroked the salamander.

Itachi nodded. "Mm-hm. Have you ever seen a dragon?"

The boy giggled and shook his head. "No."

"Truly?"

The boy looked up at him with those big, dark eyes. "No one's ever seen a dragon," he said solemnly.

"That may be true," Itachi agreed but he still thought the boy could not be entirely human. "Hold out your hands."

The boy obeyed and Itachi dumped the salamander into his cupped palms. The boy yelped and dropped it immediately. It splashed back into the water and disappeared downstream. Itachi climbed from the stream and went to sit on the bench to dry his feet in the sun. The slave boy followed and sat down beside him. His feet didn't touch the ground.

"Do you live in the house outside?" the boy asked.

"Yes. My name is Itachi."

"Oh," the slave boy said grinning happily. "I've always wanted to meet someone from outside. I've only ever talked to Oba-san. The servants won't talk to me."

"Won't they?" Itachi asked.

"Mm-m." The boy shook his head. "They don't like me."

"I can't imagine why," Itachi said. "You're very beautiful."

"I am?" the boy asked.

"Yes," Itachi answered.

The boy smiled and it took Itachi's breath away. "I think _you're_ beautiful," the boy said. "I wish I had pretty hair like yours." He touched it lightly with his small fingers. "But Oba-san says I am not allowed to."

"I'm sure she has her reasons," Itachi murmured, distracted by the proximity of the boy's mouth. His lips were pouty even when he spoke and looked soft. Itachi knew what love-making was even if he did not understand the desire behind it. He knew what kissing was even though he had never thought it looked like very fun at all. But for the first time he wanted to touch someone's mouth with his own. The thought of the boy's lips on his own grew and grew in his mind until Itachi couldn't stand it a second longer.

He ran his fingers through the slave boy's short hair and muttered something about liking the feel of it. He drew the boy's mouth to his own and heard him gasp. He paused. The slave boy was looking into his eyes curiously. His black eyes were calm as Itachi moved his lips in further. The boy's lashes fluttered. His lips drew in a breath of air and then-

"She's coming back."

Itachi jerked away from the slave at the warning. "Mikoto?"

The boy nodded.

"Sasuke!" Mikoto called from far away.

"Don't tell her I was here," Itachi whispered urgently.

"Sasuke? Lunch is ready." Mikoto's calls drew closer.

"Will you come back?" the boy asked.

Itachi smiled. Yes, he would definitely be back. He had many questions to ask the child but more than that he wanted to spend time with him. He wanted to know him. Already it was certain that Itachi would not be able to stay away from him. "Tomorrow," the Uchiha heir promised before slipping away into the forest.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It was harder to slip away than Itachi had thought. It was a Monday, the day the foreign priest came to the compound to teach him the language of the Briol Empire and their etiquette. Itachi tried to attend to his studies but the morning sun was warming the room the two sat in and made him drowsy. He liked the Father but his voice droned on and all Itachi wanted to hear was the slave boy's laugher. _Sasuke,_ Mikoto had called him. Itachi turned the name around in his mind and pondered his strange appeal.

It was an affront that they should even speak as equals. Yet Itachi wanted nothing more than that, except maybe to kiss him. Sasuke seemed completely unaware of his own status as a slave. He spoke with the assured confidence of any child used to being adored and addressed Mikoto, the lady of the Uchiha house, very casually.

Daydreams of touching the boy's pale skin filled his mind and distracted him from the verb conjugations he was meant to be doing. The Father rapped his knuckles and scolded him for his unusual behavior but even that could not pull Itachi's mind away from Sasuke. As soon as the sun shifted away from the paper screen Itachi rose. His lessons were over. He bowed to his teacher and rushed away.

He was afraid that Sasuke would be with Mikoto but as soon as he dropped down over the wall Sasuke ran up to him on thin, pale legs. "You're here," he cried happily as he gazed up at Itachi with his black dragon-like eyes.

"Have you been waiting all morning?" Itachi asked.

"Yes!" Sasuke chirped immediately but then pondered his own answer. "Well, no. Will you teach me how to climb?"

"What?"

"How to climb that," Sasuke repeated pointing at the wall. "I don't like waiting."

"You're still too small," Itachi said. He didn't want Sasuke to be outside Mikoto's gardens. He knew there was a reason the slave boy with eyes like a dragon's had been given to Mikoto but he did not know why. Was someone hunting down the dragon descendants? Only, that didn't quite make sense. Itachi didn't know if dragons existed at all and if they did why would one with dragon blood be a slave? The only thing Itachi was sure of was the twist of fear in his belly when Sasuke suggested leaving the inner gardens. Otou-san had praised Itachi many times for his good instincts and told him to listen to them. Right now his blood was screaming to keep Sasuke inside and his heart agreed – he didn't want anyone else laying eyes on this child.

The same child that was protesting loudly about absolutely _not_ being too small. Itachi shushed him.

"Why don't we start on a tree?" Itachi suggested. "This stone is much smoother. We'll have to train your hands first so they get stronger and learn what to grasp. Besides, I don't want to ruin your nice clothes."

Sasuke was wearing a beautiful red kimono with threads of violet woven in and emerging to form little birds. It was as fine as Itachi's own blue garb, and definitely not the coarse clothing of slaves. Yet the black circle shone darkly in the pale skin of Sasuke's neck.

"Oba-san says we're having a visitor today," Sasuke said. "She likes to dress me up for him."

Itachi frowned. It seemed the urge to hide Sasuke from others' eyes was stronger than he'd thought. "What does this visitor do?"

"Oh, Oba-san just talks a lot. I have to be there she says, but he doesn't like me so I stay quiet. I don't like him either," Sasuke informed him and his nose crinkled in distaste.

Well, Itachi couldn't be sorry about that. The fact that Sasuke didn't like this person made him feel just a bit happy. Itachi couldn't justify the feeling – after all, why should he care if Sasuke liked or didn't like unknown persons? But he enjoyed the way Sasuke suddenly smiled up at him like he was his only friend.

Itachi knelt down, twisting to present his back towards the younger boy, and tapped his own shoulder blade. "Come on," he ordered.

Sasuke tilted his head and frowned at him, confused.

"Wrap your arms around my neck," Itachi explained and withheld a shiver when Sasuke obeyed. Itachi wrapped his arms beneath Sasuke, pulling him in closer. The warmth of the boy's small body pressed into Itachi and spread across his skin. When Itachi stood Sasuke let out a shriek of glee. His smooth cheek pressed into the side of Itachi's face and his body shook with giggles.

Itachi kept to the wall, walking close to its base to avoid being seen. Sasuke told him Mikoto would be in the house for today but he couldn't account for the servants who cared for the gardens and upkeep of the house. Itachi took him into an orchard of sakura trees. The weeks were slipping into late spring but still the temporary flowers lingered. The rest of the compound had been stripped of the soft pastel tone days ago – Itachi had checked each tree diligently and not a single blossom remained. The sun was high in the sky and pressing down summer's warmth, yet here, behind the wall, it was cool. The air was more stagnant, the shade deeper. The clouds moved fast across the blue sky, skittering into thin wisps, and the tops of the trees shook but among the trees only tender breezes caressed their skin. Itachi felt Sasuke stretch up and grab at the drooping flowers as he walked beneath them.

"Higher," the boy on his back commanded. Over his head Itachi could see Sasuke's small hand stretch up and up into the laden branches. Itachi knelt in the grass and Sasuke whined loudly.

"Wait," Itachi chuckled. "Here, up on my shoulders." He held Sasuke's thin legs to his chest and carefully lifted him up. Sasuke giggled as the pink blossoms tickled his cheeks. Itachi twirled in tight circles, grasping Sasuke's legs tightly to keep them stable, and Sasuke laughed uncontrollably. With one hand the slave boy caressed the sakura blossoms and with the other he pet Itachi's hair. A stem slipped through his hair and settled behind his ear, pushing a chunk of hair with it.

They stayed in the trees, hidden by curtains of soft pink. Itachi tied up Sasuke's wide sleeves and taught him how to climb the low, gnarled trunks. Soon Sasuke was scampering up the bark like a little squirrel. Itachi watched carefully, ready to catch him if he fell but he learned quickly. It was only when Sasuke bored of the tree that he leapt intentionally down into Itachi's arms.

It wasn't really a long drop but to the two boys it felt like a prolonged descent. A rush of air escaped Itachi's lungs as he caught Sasuke. Sasuke laughed, trusting Itachi's encompassing arms completely as he squirmed about. He only settled down when Itachi's face grew serious and he was pulled closer to Itachi's chest. Sasuke's legs tightened around Itachi's waist and his hands braced against the older boy's chest.

"What are you doing?" Sasuke asked. His breath caught in his throat and his words came out small. There was a feeling in his chest that he didn't know. It wasn't fear but there was an underlying uncertainty and the sharp zing of anticipation.

"Do you know what a kiss is?" Itachi asked.

"Yes." Sasuke knew that it was a sign of closeness between two people. He knew that Oba-san sometimes kissed his cheek when he was supposed to be asleep and there was a picture of a princess and a man in the sitting room that he thought had something to do with kissing. Their mouths were close together and Oba-san told a story of them being in love under a silver moon.

"Will you let me kiss you?" Itachi asked him.

Sasuke thought on it hard. After a second of deep concentration he nodded his head and presented his cheek to Itachi.

Itachi chuckled. "No, not like that." He grasped Sasuke's chin in his fingers and pulled his lips close to his own. "Like this," Itachi whispered before laying his lips to Sasuke's softer ones.

Sasuke shifted in his arms, nudging his mouth closer into Itachi's. Itachi's whole body faltered. They tumbled to the ground in a tangle of colorful silk and pale limbs. Itachi sprawled on his back in the soft grass. The leaves of the sakura tree wavered in the breeze overhead and a spot of sunlight shifted into Itachi's face. It caught the grey ring in his iris and made it shine bright silver. Sasuke caught sight of it before the older boy's thick lashes fluttered shut against the sun's rays. He opened them again when he felt a shadow cooling his skin.

Sasuke was straddling his ribs, squeezing with his small legs. His neck craned down towards Itachi, bowed gracefully like a white swan's. The angle as he looked down on Itachi made his cheekbones sharper and it seemed like he lost the childish plump that filled his cheeks. Some intelligent glee sparked in his black eyes. Itachi shivered at the hungry look despite the warmth of the sun and Sasuke.

"What are you?" he asked. But Sasuke didn't answer. The air from Itachi's half-whispered question fanned against Sasuke's face before their mouths bumped together. Itachi's lips swelled, from the kiss or the bruising force of their joining. He felt blood thrumming through his lips as Sasuke's danced over his. Itachi moaned around Sasuke's determined mouth. The younger only pressed harder. His tongue poked out from his peach lips and licked at Itachi's swollen flesh.

He didn't realize he'd shut his eyes until Sasuke's delicious lips withdrew and red-orange sunlight glowed against the insides of his eyelids once again. In a second he took stock of the situation- a red kimono pushed up around milky thighs and stretched tight over a little rump; Itachi's own hands over that tender flesh; black eyes glittering down on him, a childish, gleeful smile, and a hiccup of a giggle; a boy of noble blood laying on his back and a slave atop him.

_Otou-san would be ashamed_. Yet instead of shame or fear at the thought, Itachi felt a tingling sense of rebellion. He'd never minded the discipline that came down from his father. He didn't mind the constricting rules or stern lectures or stuffy lessons. The only thing he'd ever resented was the absence of his mother, and now, the wall and law that had, for too long, kept him from this beautiful boy.

Sasuke laughed and his knees tightened around Itachi's sides. "Kisses tickle," he giggled. He pressed a finger to his own pulsing lips and giggled again.

Itachi smiled back. Above them the wind shook the trees violently. The branches scratched and creaked as they entwined and caught on neighboring wood. Sakura blossoms, full flowers and single petals, were shaken in the springtime gale. They broke off the snarled twigs and rained down, littering the grass and two humans below.

Sasuke's head snapped up suddenly. He twisted to look off into the trees. Under the whooshing _zaa zaa_ of the wind was the irritated squeal of hinges.

"What is it?" Itachi was concerned with the sudden alertness of the younger boy. His entire body had stiffened and his head cocked to the side as he stared intently into the trees. The red gate was in that direction but a screen of trees and gardens kept it from view.

"He's here."

"Who is?" Itachi asked.

"The Hungry Man."

Itachi's brow furrowed. "Hungry man?" he questioned.

Sasuke shrugged, not really listening. "Yeah. I have to go."

"Wait!" Itachi grabbed for the arm of the turning boy but his fingers slid against the loosening sleeves of his kimono. "Tomorrow- I'll come again."

"Okay," Sasuke grinned.

"And this hungry man, don't tell him about me okay? I'll get trouble if anyone knows I'm…playing with you. Promise me?"

Sasuke nodded. "I promise."

"Okay." Itachi smiled, expecting Sasuke to leave but the boy stood there gazing up at him thoughtfully. "What is it?" Itachi asked.

"Can I have another kiss?"

Sasuke's eyes were wide and Itachi could see the yearning in them. Itachi felt a rush of – something, something dark and possessive that he didn't understand and didn't quite like. He wanted Sasuke. He wanted to take him and hide him away from everyone; the slaves, and the hungry man, and even Mikoto. He wanted Sasuke to be his.

"Come here," Itachi whispered. Sasuke obeyed immediately and tilted his mouth up towards Itachi. Itachi ran his fingers through Sasuke's short hair. His nails continued to scratch down his thin pale neck. Sasuke cringed and shivered at the touch. "One last one," Itachi said.

"But you'll be back tomorrow. Won't you?"

"Yes. Of course."

Itachi's mouth covered Sasuke's and he breathed Sasuke in. Sasuke's lower lip slipped between his. Itachi latched onto the new sensation and the soft flesh. The kiss deepened and their lips moistened. Sasuke's cheeks are pink when Itachi finally released his mouth.

"I'll be back for you tomorrow," Itachi whispered.

"Promise?" Sasuke asked, still breathless from the kiss.

"Promise."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

As soon as Sasuke sat in the genkan one of the slaves appeared. Sasuke ignored her as he wrestled his indoor socks on. He didn't like the slaves. They always glared at him and they never spoke, even if he screamed at them or hit them. Sometimes he wondered if they were really human or if they just looked that way. He thought they might be enchanted spirits, incapable of speech. But even though he thought this he kept it to himself. The last time he'd grown upset with a slave Oba-san had cried and Sasuke had promised himself he'd be better, even if the slaves still treated him like dirt.

When he was finished donning his pristine white socks he rose and waited for the slave woman to lead the way. She looked at him coldly before smiling suddenly. Sasuke felt an invisible fist clench his stomach. Her smile was cruel and her eyes were as hateful as ever. Sasuke glared back. He wouldn't be mean to them, but he wouldn't be nice either.

The slave left him at the largest room in their house. It was so big there were two thick columns, painted bright red, in the middle of the room to support the upstairs. The outer wall led into a courtyard. It was opened, the rice panels shifted away to reveal the white rock and delicate patches of flora, highlighted with blue and purple flowers under the late afternoon sun.

Sasuke peered in cautiously. Mikoto was lounging on a couch, dressed in fine silk that draped over the furniture's gilded edge and pooled against polished wooden planks. Her hair was up and adorned with baubles that dangled near her curving eyes. Her gaze was beautiful and frigid as a glacier as she watched a man that sat at the table set with tea dishes. Mikoto glanced up and her black eyes softened when she saw Sasuke there. He jumped when he realized he'd been seen but her voice called out to soothe him.

"Come here Sasuke," she commanded with a delicate wave. Her lips curled up as he edged into the room shyly and made a formal bow to the man at the table. The low statue of his chair did nothing to hide his dominating presence or his stiff posture. The Hungry Man.

"Your slave is filthy," the man spoke.

"I am not –!"

"Sasuke," Mikoto warned.

The child held his tongue. He liked nothing about this man. His name was Uchiha Fugaku and his scornful gaze always filled with hate when his grey eyes turned to Sasuke. He was a frequent guest even though guests were rare in general for Mikoto's house. He came at least once a month and stayed the night sometimes. When that happened Sasuke could hear scary sounds from Mikoto's bedroom. It sounded like a man-eating ogre. Low grunts would vibrate through the still night air and every now and then Mikoto would shriek highly. Sasuke was too frightened to ever leave his futon so he would squeeze his eyes shut and hope fervently for the sunrise.

Yet Mikoto was always careful to ready for his visits by bathing in sweet smelling water. Her hair was brushed out by two slaves and she painted her face and eyes. Sasuke was also forced into the bathwater. He enjoyed swimming in the pond and splashing in the small creeks but he did not like bathing when his skin was scrubbed raw by vicious slaves and his head dunked under. It took three of the silent, sneering slaves to finish the task every time. And then his hair was cut.

The first time his black hair was cut off he had cried. It had reached the point where it brushed his thin shoulders and he'd had to keep it in a short ponytail to keep it from sticking to his face. When they'd shorn it off Sasuke had fought like a wild cat, scratching and biting at them. But Mikoto had come and knelt down and told him she'd ordered it. A tear had dripped from her eye and that was the only time she'd kissed him while he was fully awake. Her lips had been damp with her tears when she'd clasped his head, ragged with short tufts of hair, and laid a kiss to his forehead. It was routine now to trim it before Fugaku arrived and Sasuke no longer fought it.

"If a slave ever came to me with dirty knees and messy hair and dripping blood everywhere I would beat him," Fugaku said.

Sasuke slipped his right arm behind his back. It was scratched from climbing the tree and a thin line of red showed but it wasn't dripping. Itachi had made sure of that before releasing his wrist and allowing him to try again.

"Well then," Mikoto replied coolly. "It's a good thing he's not yours_,_ isn't it?" She smiled and her small white teeth flashed. Sasuke saw Fugaku's face turn dark and when his grey eyes returned to scrutinizing Sasuke they were angry. Sasuke ducked his head to avoid the stare. He kept it down as he scurried forward to the table and started to set out the teacups. He poured the tea with a grace unseen in such a young child. Mikoto had taught him exactly how and where he should stand and how to keep his long billowing sleeves from brushing the table's surface. The delicate teaware didn't even clink as he poured out steaming hot green tea. He carried Mikoto's to her before kneeling to sit in front of her couch.

The two adults started talking about things Sasuke didn't care about and didn't understand. He didn't like listening. There was tension between Fugaku and Mikoto that even the young child could feel. He wanted back outside. Gold sunlight was spilling into the wooden floor of the room and he could smell the grass. He glanced at the grass stains on his knees and tried to rub them away without being noticed. He smiled to himself thinking about climbing trees with Itachi. And kissing. He liked the feeling he got every time Itachi's lips met his. It was warm and fluttered deep in his stomach.

The golden sunlight was slinking further and further into the room as it sunk to the earth. Mikoto and Fugaku's conversation was slowly crescendoing but Sasuke ignored it until Fugaku's teacup cracked down on the table. Sasuke jumped at the loud sound and turned away from the open wall to the two fuming adults. Fugaku's face was turning harder and harder as he clenched his jaw and Mikoto's voice rose higher and higher.

" - and I refuse to -."

"All I want you is back at my side," Fugaku interrupted. "You betrayed me once before and brought this isolation on yourself but -."

"_Betrayed_ you?" Mikoto screeched with disgust. "I don't owe you anything."

"You are my _wife_, you owe me _everything_."

"I am not property to be owned," Mikoto hissed from the couch. Her upper body rose up from her relaxed lounge on the couch like a snake about to strike.

"Why will you never be mine?"

"Because I am not your slave."

"No," Fugaku bit out. "You're not." His grey eyes turned to Sasuke. The boy's stomach clenched and his spine dug into Mikoto's couch as he shifted to put distance between him and the Hungry Man. "Yet," Fugaku spoke darkly, "the same cannot be said for your…pet. He's very pretty isn't he? Like you."

Sasuke jumped when Mikoto's hand touched the top of his head.

"I think it might be time to separate him from you," Fugaku said. "I'm sure I could find a buyer. Someone overseas maybe."

Mikoto's fingers were claws on Sasuke's scalp. "If you do I will no longer obey your wishes."

"You don't do that now," Fugaku pointed out. "You still refuse to act as a mother towards your own child."

"No child of yours will ever be my son," Mikoto spat angrily but her fingers smoothed over Sasuke's short hair. "Itachi may be mine by birth but he is your son through and through."

Sasuke glanced up in surprise at his new friend's name but quickly ducked his head down when Fugaku returned his stare. For long seconds Fugaku said nothing. Sasuke squirmed in the silence, fearful to look up at the Hungry Man again.

"Did you tell him about Itachi?" Fugaku asked quietly.

"No." Mikoto was so surprised by the question that she gave a straightforward answer without deception or insult.

"Boy, what do you know about Itachi?" Fugaku asked. His cold voice penetrated Sasuke's body but still he refused to raise his head. "You recognized his name, didn't you?"

Sasuke shook his head. He didn't know why, but he didn't want this man to know about their new friendship.

"Don't lie to me," Fugaku hissed. "Do you know what happens to slaves that lie?"

"Don't address him like that!" Mikoto cried.

"I'll address him however I want," Fugaku growled. "I own his title."

Mikoto shrieked violently in anger. The cry fell from gleaming crimson lips, stark against her pale white face, and echoed around them as she stood. Folds of silk and ribbon swirled around her frame that quivered in anger and her black eyes simmered dangerously beneath thin brows. "Sasuke is _mine_."

Sasuke flinched away from the angry voices and hunched over his knees. He gasped when a rough hand gripped his arm and yanked him to his feet.

"Let me go!" Sasuke screamed, trying to pull away from Fugaku's harsh grip. The hand only tightened. The man's fingers twisted around Sasuke's skin, leaving furious red imprints. "Let go!"

Fugaku yanked Sasuke's head up so he was forced to look up into the man's hard face. "How do you know Itachi's name?"

Sasuke whimpered and twisted in his grip.

"Answer me," Fugaku barked.

"Fugaku, release him at once," Mikoto commanded furiously.

"Mikoto, if you interfere I will take him away from you and send him to a whorehouse for foreigner dogs. Now, slave, tell me where did you learn about Itachi."

Sasuke's short finger clenched at his red kimono. The silk bundled in his palms and crinkled in his white-knuckled grasp. He liked the soft, slippery feel of it against his skin. It comforted him and reminded him that he was different. He wasn't like the mute slaves that worked in Mikoto's home and gardens and dressed in rags.

Fugaku raised his hand and Sasuke flinched. The hand smacked across his cheek and threw him against the couch. He gasped as tears began to spill from his eyes and he cowered away from the angry man.

Fugaku pulled the neckline of his clothes and yanked him up. "If you've been out of these gardens you'll tell me," Fugaku spat. "If you've climbed that wall you'll tell me. And if you've even laid eyes on my son you'll tell me."

His hand was clenching at Sasuke's front so hard that the delicate silk tore in two. Sasuke sobbed as Fugaku shook him. He knew Oba-san was furious but she did not save him.

"And if you've _touched_ Itachi," Fugaku promised in the dangerous hiss of a snake, "You'll regret it for the rest of your life."

xxx

As the sun was setting, Itachi was reading a scroll that he'd found long ago about lovemaking. He shifted on the tatami floor of his room and tilted the paper to catch the fading red light. The writing was advanced but he combed through it determinedly, searching for information that wasn't there. The sunset lit up illustrations of entwined bodies in every position imaginable. But nowhere could Itachi find anything on the coupling of two male bodies.

He heard the heavy footsteps outside his door but didn't register the sound until his father barged in. Itachi jumped at the sound and immediately hid the scroll. His father's face was hard with anger as he stepped towards Itachi. Itachi scrambled to stand up and hoped he wouldn't see the scroll. That would only enrage him further.

"Good evening Otou-san," Itachi greeted and bowed.

"Itachi. Where have you been today?" His father's voice was deceptively quiet and calm.

"In the gardens," Itachi replied immediately.

"Which ones?"

"Near the wall."

"Which _side_ of the wall?"

Itachi frowned. "I'm not allowed on the other side of the wall," he reminded his father politely.

"No, you're not," Fugaku agreed. "And yet…" He stepped closer to Itachi, towering over his still childish height. Itachi only cringed the barest inch when he felt his father's fingers on his hair. His father stepped away and Itachi's eyes widened when he saw the pink sakura blossom pinched between his father's fingers. He cringed to see anger in his father's eyes, and knowing. They both knew that the only place where sakura trees still bloomed was the inner gardens.

"You've disobeyed me," Fugaku spoke.

Itachi bent in half at the waist, bowing deeply in apology. "I am sorry Otou-san. I only wanted to see my mother."

"Is that what you did?"

"I didn't do anything wrong."

"You've always had a sly tongue, Itachi. But I already know what you did," Fugaku declared smugly. "You played with a slave as if he was your equal. As if you aren't an Uchiha."

"How do you know about that?"

"He told me."

Itachi tried to keep his face calm but hurt tore at his ribcage and squeezed his heart. Why would Sasuke do that? Perhaps he didn't know better…but he'd promised Itachi he wouldn't speak of him. Itachi couldn't help his anger at the betrayal. Sasuke had told and now his father was using it against him. He didn't realize that his eyes turned to glare up at his own father with a furious hate.

"Don't look at me with such disrespectful eyes," Fugaku said.

Itachi tried to bury the emotions he felt but he had always been smart for his age and his mouth was already asking a question that burned in his mind.

"Why do you care so much about a slave?"

A loud smack filled Itachi's ears and his head whipped to the side. His jaw and cheekbones ached instantly from the force of his father's heavy hand. Tears filled his eyes but he blinked them away stubbornly. He wouldn't let his father see him cry. When the mist cleared from his sight he saw the boiling anger in his father's eyes. Fugaku's eyes narrowed.

"It is not your place to question me," Fugaku said. "And if you ever repeat this act of rebellion I will not be so forgiving."

xxx

Itachi was sent away to boarding school the day after Fugaku found the sakura blossom in his raven hair. Itachi didn't have time to refuse. Slaves woke him early and bustled the half-sleeping boy to the bath. A feeling of a dream lingered in his mind. He recalled a warm breeze and soft skin but the dream itself was intangible, all but a striking image of a dragon's scorching black gaze. Hot bath water dripped down his long black hair. Strands stuck to his cheek as he sighed sleepily and stared at the wall. It wasn't until he was presented with traveling clothes that he woke up fully and panicked.

His father refused to see him until he was at the gates of the main house.

"Otou-san-."

"Itachi," Fugaku interrupted. "My son. It's time for you to learn the ways of this world. I do this so you will one day bring honor to your family." His stern gaze made it a threat and the word 'honor' was said to bring shame on Itachi, a reminder that he had disobeyed his father in a most severe manner.

"Otou-san-."

"When I see you have become a man you will come home."

"Otou-san!" Itachi shouted. His fists clench at his sides. "We didn't do anything wrong," Itachi rushed to say. "Please, I only wanted-."

"Hold your tongue, you stupid child," Fugaku hissed. "You've disappointed me. When you return you will know to obey me."

His father turned from him and hot tears of shame and anger spilled down Itachi's cheeks. He couldn't stop them. He hadn't done anything wrong! What he had with Sasuke was… it was…something special. It did something strange to his lower tummy. His skin felt flushed and heated and he ached for something. Even at this young age Itachi felt the hatred Fugaku had towards Sasuke. He knew the reason he was being sent away had to do more with the slave boy and his friendship with him than simply climbing the wall. But Itachi did not regret it. He had never felt this way before, not with the other children of aristocratic clans or with the street urchins he saw in the marketplace. Sasuke was something more. He felt protective over him and he wanted to be closer, always closer. When he remembered the little child in the embrace of the sakura branches he could believe that Sasuke was more than human. His beauty was too dazzling.

Itachi didn't want to forget that. He didn't want to forget his laughter or what it felt like to hold him in his arms. He couldn't forget the feel of his kiss, of that Itachi was certain. Itachi wondered if Sasuke would remember his promise to see him today. He hoped he didn't- but he also hoped he did. He didn't want Sasuke to forget him either. He looked back to the inner gardens and scanned the clouds of pink sakura that peeked above the wall. But Sasuke wasn't visible to him at all. The last thing he saw before the gates to his home closed was the unbreakable wall of the inner gardens.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Oi, Uchiha." The boisterous male voice belonged to his friend but Itachi didn't even glance up from the book laid out in front of him. A heavy body banged against the open window frame but Itachi ignored that too.

"Come on 'Tachi. We're forming teams down on the green. Come pitch a few for us, won't you?" Yahiko leaned over the metal windowsill from the outside lawn where he stood. His body, broad-shouldered and muscled, blocked the afternoon light. Itachi frowned at the shadow on his book. The library he sat in was dimly lit. The old campus of ivied stone and grassy terraces had been wired for electric lights but Itachi had tucked himself into an alcove without any fixtures. The stacks around him were old and dusty and the air smelled of damp paper. But it had been quiet before Yahiko showed up.

Itachi looked up at his red haired companion. Fugaku had outdone himself when he sent Itachi away. The boarding school wasn't only far from Itachi's childhood home but it was far from his native country as well. A ship had taken him across the sea to the Briol Empire and he'd yet to return home, even for a visit. He received mail from his father, growing more courteous and business oriented throughout his school years, but none that summoned him back.

"You're in my light," Itachi said.

Yahiko laughed and leaned in further to tug at Itachi's hair. He tugged the end and let it swing to brush Itachi's cheek. Itachi glared at him before pulling the ribbon from his ponytail. His hair cascaded around his face but he thrust it back quickly and redid the bow aware of Yahiko's eyes. In the all boys' school, Itachi's fine features and rare exotic beauty garnered constant attention even from his friends. They handled their admiration towards the quiet but authoritative youth differently. Some joked around what they really wanted and some worshipped him. Yahiko treated it as a never-ending game.

"If you don't come play ball, I'll come in there to play with you." Yahiko grinned and glanced around the deserted lines of cramped, winding bookcases. "Quite the spot you've picked Uchiha. Nice and quiet. _Lonely_."

"You'll miss the game if you waste your time trying to persuade me," Itachi pointed out.

"We can do other things," Yahiko said. He swung up onto the windowsill and leapt down near Itachi's table. "What's got your attention anyways?" He hauled Itachi's book up by the front cover and skimmed the title, raising a slim pale brow as he did so. "The Greeks?" A leer crept onto his lips. "Don't tell me you're finally _interested_." His eyes challenged Itachi and something dangerous and careless lit his pupils.

"I'm not," Itachi replied evenly.

"Hm." Yahiko bent over Itachi and laid his lips to the younger student's mouth. He moved slowly, caressing the Uchiha's lips carefully. Itachi allowed it all, even when Yahiko's pushed in further, spreading Itachi's lips open to suck at the warmth of his mouth. Itachi's lips slid against his own patiently until Yahiko had to draw away for breath.

Yahiko's chest heaved. He could feel his hot erection pressing the front of his trousers. Itachi on the other hand was composed. His eyes were bright, his cheeks and lips flushed, but his mask was still firmly in place. His grey eyes caught Yahiko staring and he poised an eyebrow. Yahiko chuckled, breathlessly and just a little. Itachi was an arrogant asshole and he looked the part of a young prince lounging regally in a throne.

Yahiko turned his gaze outside. It was sunny, blue-skied. The lawn was a lush green and he could just see the sparkling river that bordered one side of the school's campus. The baseball game was starting down that slope without him but he didn't care much then.

"How many boys have you let kiss you?" Yahiko asked. His breath was back even if his groin was still heated.

"Some," Itachi shrugged.

"And how many have you let-." Yahiko's mouth moved in close enough that his lips brushed Itachi's earlobes and his voice dropped as he whispered a dirty, explicit phrase into Itachi's ear. His older friend laid out the situation graphically, ignoring Itachi's discomfort. Itachi stared down at his book as he listened to every word Yahiko spoke but none of his thoughts were displayed on his beautiful, cool face.

Yahiko mouthed Itachi's ear, licking down sensitive skin and making him cringe. A hand tangled in Itachi's hair, stroked his neck and held him still as a wet tongue coursed down a stressed tendon to the base of his throat. Itachi shivered before pushing his friend away.

"Won't you consider it with me?" Yahiko asked. "I'll be good to you."

Itachi paused. It wasn't the first time Yahiko had given him such a proposition, although his lust for Itachi was usually better hidden. The pause was long enough for Yahiko to get excited. Itachi's rejection was always immediate, polite and painfully courteous but firm. Seeing him hesitate made Yahiko's heart – and erection– throb. His hope crashed when Itachi finally shook his head.

"It would be inappropriate."

"I don't get you," Yahiko decided, a little bit frustrated. "You're headstrong enough to disobey your father when you really want but you still try to win his approval."

"As an only child it is my duty," Itachi said.

"Maybe your father should have another kid," Yahiko suggested. "Someone less stubborn that he can control."

"No. I am my father's only child."

"What, do you want all your old man's attention?"

"Not at all," Itachi said. "I wouldn't have any of it, were it up to me. But it's not possible…"

"Oh!" Yahiko exclaimed. "Do you mean he's sterile of somethin'?"

"We do not talk about things like that," Itachi informed his foreign friend stiffly.

"Hey, you're in _my_ country now. So what, can he not," Yahiko waggled his eyebrows suggestively, "you know."

"He just can't have kids is all."

"But he had you," Yahiko pointed out.

"Yes well." Itachi trailed off and refused to say anymore on the subject. It wasn't something to be discussed outside the family. In fact, Itachi himself only knew about it because of his childhood habit of eavesdropping under the porches. Looking back he was surprised he'd never been caught as a kid. It disturbed him now how much information he'd gained concerning his own parents merely because he'd enjoyed listening for secrets when the servants were chattering or gossiping relatives were visiting.

He didn't know if the story he heard was true, but his aunt was certain Mikoto had poisoned Fugaku with a mountain herb that made him sterile. It would have been after Itachi was born but before Mikoto was banished to the inner gardens. Itachi wondered if that was why she'd been banished but he'd never asked for more information. He had only a few memories of Mikoto living with them in the main house.

Yahiko pulled him from his thoughts, disproving of Itachi thinking of his home like he always did. It wasn't rare for Itachi's eyes to glaze with memories and thoughts, as he tried to sift through his own past and whenever Yahiko was near he would distract him from thinking too hard. Yahiko didn't know Itachi's complicated family history but he did realize Itachi was frustrated with his own hazy memories and lack of information. The older student coaxed Itachi from the dim library and pulled him over the windowsill into the bright afternoon light. Itachi protested but Yahiko grinned and muscled him into moving.

The game was well into the second inning. Yahiko wanted to join in anyways but Itachi didn't so they watched for a while, Yahiko jeering at every mistake and taunting both teams. The sun was beating down on their backs as they leaned against a short wall. Itachi drew his dark hair, burning under the fierce sunlight, over his shoulder. He caught Yahiko glancing over at him but he ignored him until a play drew Yahiko's attention back to the game.

He heckled the fielding team until the loudmouth catcher got fed up with it. He shouted back at Yahiko obnoxiously but he took it grinning. The furious player had a mask of thin metal bars covering his face, the only protective equipment he wore. His long blonde hair was caught under it, covering one eye, and Itachi didn't know how he saw to catch the pitches. Yahiko must have thought the same thing because he mocked him for being blind.

Deidara stalked across the field but his teammates groaned at his aggression and called him back, exasperated with him. Itachi hid a smile. It certainly wasn't unusual for these two to get into fights especially when Yahiko was actually on the field. Itachi and Deidara's teammates both interfered before anything could happen between the young men, Itachi by laying a hand on Yahiko's back and Deidara's teammates by holding the fiery blonde back.

Yahiko threw Itachi and cocky smile over his shoulder. The raven rolled his eyes but he wouldn't deny the feeling of his stomach turning over at his friend's ignited expression. Itachi could admit that he found his face handsome.

He eyed his friend's back as he turned back to watch the resuming game. Yahiko's wide shoulders strained his shirt and a line of sweat marked his lower spine. His powerful back tapered down into a trim waist. When Itachi caught himself staring at his friend's butt he looked away, hoping Yahiko hadn't caught _him_ staring.

What would it be like? he wondered. He'd come a long ways from researching centuries old sex manuals. He knew now what two males could do with each other's bodies. He knew too that he was one of the types of males who wanted just that. In this country it was an acceptable endeavor, at least as a pastime. Back home it was not. Now that he could recognize the type he was sure he was not the only man from his country to feel such a way, yet no one was forthright about it. There such a looked-down upon act would cost him what little of his father's approval he had gained, and probably his inheritance and family name with it.

A memory tickled the back of his mind, reminding him of how he'd ended up at this boarding school. He thought that his father had probably always planned to send him away to school eventually but he still remembered how abrupt his departure was. He remembered his father's disappointment. His own action that warranted such anger was forgotten but he'd realized that, at least to some degree, he cared about his father's approval. He knew vaguely he'd been caught sneaking into the inner gardens but beyond that his memories were locked away by the years of study and foreign tongues and companionship. The only thing he did remember was the view of sakura trees and then later being among their branches, not alone, he felt– but he could never remember the other person and recalled only another's presence.

"You're doing it again," Yahiko broke into his thoughts.

"Hm?" Itachi murmured, feigning innocence. He made sure his eyes followed the next play, but he knew he wasn't convincing Yahiko.

Yahiko snorted at him. "Has he written you lately?"

"No," Itachi replied.

"It's been months now."

"Yes," Itachi confirmed. He didn't have anything else to say on the matter. He didn't miss the letters because he was homesick or lonely. His father didn't write often anyways and when he did it was about business matters and his expectations for Itachi's schooling. Still, it had been longer than usual and Itachi didn't know what that meant in regards to his father's attention to him. It worried him.

Yahiko didn't push the issue and returned to watching the game. "It'll come," he told Itachi. "The weather's been bad lately," he added, offering it up as an excuse.

Itachi smiled as the sun beat down on them. "I guess it has," he agreed with a deceptive serenity.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The stone was warm beneath Itachi's feet, emanating the sun's energy even after nightfall, yet the air had a chill. It smelled of salt and Itachi almost imagined the sea's spray on his skin, even though the shore was blocks away. The brick building he stood against still held some heat as well. Itachi pushed his shoulders up against it and continued to wait for his friends.

A group of loud men, drunk by the sounds of it, passed by. One of them whistled at the pretty-faced schoolboy who had the slanted eyes of a foreigner. Itachi turned his face away from their leers and tired to ignore their crass comments. He wished Yahiko and Deidara would hurry up. They'd gone into the corner liquor store. He'd elected to wait here because he was still a year below the drinking limit and looked even younger to the citizens here.

"'Ere, leave off." Yahiko's voice sent the drunk men stumbling away- after a look at the handsome, broad-shouldered redhead and a few lingering looks towards Itachi.

Itachi shoved away from the wall.

"Bothering you long?" Yahiko asked, worried for his younger friend.

Itachi shrugged. "It's fine."

Deidara chuckled at Yahiko's elbow. "Don't look so morose," he said. "Men like them are the reason we're here."

Itachi shifted uncomfortably. Deidara and Yahiko may be here for more but Itachi had only come on a whim. Or so he told himself. His curiosity had been growing for months along with his anxiety over the lack of contact from home. A certain anger and recklessness towards his absent father and his sense of honor and propriety had been growing. Despite his numerous letters home requesting information Itachi had received nothing back. His frustration allowed him to be swayed by Yahiko's coaxing to go out that night. They'd snuck out of the dormitory and immediately gone to the Saltworks District, an area infamous for the foreign sailors that docked there and the tiny rooms they'd rent out by the hour. It was a common destination for students like them.

Itachi noticed quite a few sailors of his own nationality roaming the streets and ducking into hotels with boys his own age or even younger. His eyes made contact with one such man but they both glanced away quickly.

Yahiko nudged his shoulder. "There's no need for that," he said.

"What?"

Yahiko smiled knowingly. "You don't know anyone here right?"

"No…"

"So there's nothing to worry about. No one knows you here. You aren't the only one to want anonymity. Just relax." He handed Itachi a bottle and watched him closely as he tipped it back. His tongue curled at the strong taste but he swallowed and immediately felt a heat in his stomach. "Finish it," Yahiko said. "I'll look after you tonight."

His face was too close to Itachi as he made the promise. Itachi shook his head, automatically refusing the suggestion to lose control.

"Ugh, would you two stop flirting?" Deidara cut in. "You already know Itachi won't let you fuck him," he told Yahiko. "Find some fresh meat to try."

Embarrassed, Itachi refused to make eye contact with Yahiko. The redhead only laughed. "That's not what you were saying Wednesday when you came back for my-."

"Shut up!" Deidara yelled. He was already on his way to being very drunk. "I was desperate!"

Itachi ignored them. It was as normal for them to fight as it was for them to fuck and similar relationships weren't uncommon in their school. Itachi was becoming accustomed to it, although the concept was shocking to him when he'd first realized just what went on between the two of them.

The three of them wandered through the district as they passed the liquor between themselves. The new experience slowly began to fascinate Itachi. At first he associated the happy hum in his thoughts to the colorfully lit buildings and the loud conversation and laughter, among other sounds, that littered into the street. Lanterns glowed, bright green and yellow beside shades of red and rare purples. The colored light that spilled from them made the darkened windows all the more conspicuous. When the lights began to slide before his eyes he realized the novelty wasn't the only thing causing his excitement. Deidara grew louder and started to return the catcalls and looks they received with comments of his own. Yahiko drew closer to Itachi, going so far as to sling an arm around him and whisper random observations in his ear.

"I think I should get you drunk more often," Yahiko said into his ear. His words tickled and Itachi smiled at the sensation. He butted up against Yahiko, pressing his cheek against his friend's.

"You promised to take care of me," Itachi reminded him.

Yahiko sighed. Even drunk his raven friend was adorably serious. His somber eyes made Yahiko desperate to kiss him but he wasn't drunk enough to mistake Itachi's meaning for an innuendo.

"That I did. Tell me if you see anyone you like."

"No…" The streets blurred by and the sights delighted Itachi's inner child, the one still fascinated by a world he'd never known. The scent and feel of night were his focus and the men that walked the streets were merely the background

"There's why we're here Uchiha. Don't tell me you're wussing out."

"No," Itachi said. "He's not here."

"Who?" Deidara inquired.

"Yeah who?" Yahiko asked.

Itachi wondered that himself for a moment. He had a sense of someone, always, lurking at the fringes of his mind. His conscious didn't always recognize the presence but it was there, and so overpowering in the moments surrounding his sleep. He never saw a substantial face but that person lingered on, like a nostalgic scent or the scattered melody of a song he couldn't ever put his finger on.

"You've never told us about anyone," Deidara accused.

"He's not someone," Itachi replied. "Just what I want."

"Oh, like your fantasy man," Deidara said. "Don't worry, we'll help you find 'im."

"I doubt that he's here," Itachi said but neither of his friends paid the comment much attention.

Eventually they ducked into a bar. Deidara was impatient to begin what he'd come for but what they found inside distracted him further. The blonde entered first, acting as if he owned the small bar. Itachi saw the young man with black hair stalking up to his friend. He opened his mouth to protest the stranger's actions but before he could give a warning Deidara's flat ass was being frisked with expert hands.

"What the hell!?" Deidara squawked. He turned on the youth who only smiled.

"Hey Dei."

"Sai you fucker," Deidara growl-laughed and slung an arm around Sai's neck. He twisted him into bending in half before releasing him from the rough embrace.

The person that seemed to be Deidara's friend, Sai, was a foreigner like Itachi. Itachi caught only a glimpse of his face, too short-lived to procure any details, but the shade of his arms and his pitch-black hair spoke of an ancestry related more closely to Itachi's than someone of Briotic descent.

"How's that shit you call art coming?" Sai asked pleasantly.

"Listen you-."

A hand tugged on Itachi's sleeve, drawing his attention away from Deidara and Sai's conversation. Yahiko pulled on his sleeve again, coaxing him into movement towards the bar where he continued to take care of Itachi by teaching him the quickest and easiest way to set the room spinning.

xxx

Later into the night Itachi was sitting alone at the bar Yahiko had left him at with strict orders to not get lost. It had taken effort on Itachi's part to convince him to leave, along with the cajoling of the excitable loud blonde youth that would be his companion for the night. Sometime during drinks Itachi had noticed Yahiko eyeing the outgoing boy and he'd immediately encouraged his friend to chase after him. It'd had only taken the offer of a drink for Yahiko and the blonde to seal their time together for the rest of the night. Deidara had long since disappeared by the time Yahiko got around to renting a room.

Itachi couldn't remember why he'd wanted so desperately to be left alone. He recalled a feeling of panic at the thought of his father. If Fugaku knew Itachi had snuck from the dormitories and gone to the Saltworks District what would he do? Where could he banish his son to next? It had been a relief to rid himself of Yahiko and the coy blonde to sit alone with a beer but even that was short-lived. Too many men took his solitude for loneliness and an assumed invitation. He'd turned them away coldly and harshly.

The beer tasted better than the biting liquor Yahiko had bought but it was watery and the light layer of unavoidable froth was disgusting. The mug felt nicer in his palms than it did against his lips. Another man came up to the bar and leaned into Itachi. The student shifted away abruptly and gave him an icy glare until he was once again left to his thoughts. He took another sip of his beer and found the dilute mix suddenly soothing as the chilled liquid ran down his throat.

"Not what you imagined is it?" The voice came from Sai. He was at the bar at Itachi's side, a few inches of space between their bodies. Itachi was surprised to see him so close. When had he arrived? The sparse bulbs above the bar threw shadows across Sai's face. His hair was pitch black and dark, slanted eyes glittered in a blur of pale skin.

"I'm Sai. Deidara's friend," Sai said and then asked, "What?"

Itachi realized he'd been staring at Sai for far too long.

"You have dragon eyes," he said. It made him think of someone else but the memory slipped away as quickly as it had come.

Sai blinked then smiled. "You're drunk."

Itachi shook his head.

"Are you meeting with someone?" Sai asked. "I thought you were with Yahiko but Deidara said you're a virgin. Are you afraid to make love with another man?"

"I'm not afraid," Itachi replied at last, frowning.

Sai smiled. "Then it's no problem, right?" He moved to kiss Itachi, going so far as sliding his fingers behind Itachi's ear but Itachi threw him off.

"Not with you," he said.

"Why not?" Sai asked. "You don't seem like a neko to me but that's all these foreigners will see in a pretty boy like you."

Itachi didn't know the term but he picked up on the idea quickly enough. "I'm not."

"So why not me?" Sai asked and leaned in close. "I'll let you fuck me as hard as you want."

Itachi shivered at the idea of that but not with Sai. "Your eyes," he said and disgust wormed its way into his voice.

"I can close them," Sai reasoned. "You can take me from behind." His pale fingers touched Itachi's wrist. It was a modest touch but Itachi felt the same heat he did when Yahiko kissed him. There was warmth in his veins and when it hit his heart it began to beat faster. Itachi's fingers curled around Sai's wrist in response. He pulled the smaller boy in, hesitated with an inch of space separating them, and kissed him. Sai responded eagerly and Itachi caught his fervor quickly.

"I can get a room upstairs," Sai whispered when they broke apart.

Itachi agreed. The room tilted when moved and stairs proved difficult to maneuver while staying lip-locked. When they careened into the corner Sai laughed. He pulled Itachi the rest of the way.

The hours of the night blurred like his vision. He remembered Sai hands sliding off his shirt, stroking his body. The bed dipped with their weight. Green light lit from a lantern across the street made a spot on the wall visible. Sai's neck was hot and damp under Itachi's lips. He was turning, bracing his hands on the headboard but Itachi stopped him.

"I want to see them," he whispered. He pulled on Sai's shoulders and shoved him to the mattress beneath him. His hand skimmed down over Sai's body and his clumsy, inexperienced touch earned a gasp in response. Itachi's grey eyes stared into Sai's, his focus flickering between the two black orbs. "Keep them open," he ordered.

xxx

The trip to the Saltworks District was repeated over the next few months. He never ran into Sai again but there were plenty of other boys eager for Itachi's attention. He tended to stick to foreigners like himself, something Deidara teased him for. Itachi grew accustomed to the looks. He liked the anonymous touches and loveless couplings that satisfied his adolescent drive. Every time he returned to the Saltworks the shame he felt lessened more and more and eventually it pleased him that his father no longer wrote to him.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Yahiko knew something was wrong as soon as he saw the look on Itachi's face. He grew worried, concerned that something had happened the previous night. They'd snuck out to the Saltworks District once again and Itachi had ended up with a handsome man, older than the ones he usually chose.

Now they were on the way to Mass. The boarding school was founded by a church so tradition still endured on Sunday mornings. Groups of sleepy boys moved through the hallways to the sanctuary. Yahiko was more awake than them having run into Deidara on his way there. The sharp-tongued blonde always stirred him with insults and Yahiko returned the favor by head-locking him and dragging him through the corridors. As soon as he saw Itachi standing alone in a courtyard Yahiko released the blonde.

"You fucking asshole, that HURT!" Deidara yelled.

Yahiko clipped him on the back of the head and told him to shut up. They weren't the only ones whose attention was on Itachi. Pillars of stone and open-air windows framed the quiet school idol perfectly. He was standing awkwardly in the dewy grass, ignoring the flowing mass of boys that grew louder and more alert with every second. He was obviously waiting for Yahiko but his eyes had dropped to the ground and he stared at it, lost in some thought of his own. Most disturbingly rather than being dressed in his Sunday uniform he was wearing traveling clothes. That probably meant it had less to do with their delinquent habits and more to do with his asshole of a father, though the man had remained absent for almost ten months now.

"Deidara, crowd control," Yahiko ordered.

Deidara nodded, immediately cooperating with Yahiko. He started yelling at the curious boys and pushed them along towards the sanctuary. Itachi suddenly noticed his audience and glanced up at them just as Yahiko approached him.

"You're leaving," Yahiko stated.

"Yes."

"It's urgent?" Yahiko asked. "You must have gotten special permission to leave now. You'll be the talk of the school until you get back."

"I'm not coming back," Itachi said.

Yahiko's calm face fell into a frown. His eyebrows scrunched along with his mouth. "You're dropping out?"

"A degree doesn't mean anything back home. My father thinks I've learned all I need to help with the business."

Deidara's loud voice drew their attention to the surrounding corridors and they realized their audience instead of diminishing was only growing.

"Come on," Yahiko growled. "We'll find somewhere else."

"Itachi!" Deidara yelled at him as they pushed through the crowd. "You're leaving?"

"Later Deidara," Yahiko said. "You'll get another demerit if you're late to Mass."

Deidara didn't look happy but he didn't argue. "You'll come say bye to me?" he asked Itachi.

Itachi nodded.

"Later," Yahiko repeated before dragging Itachi against the flow of the crowd. They received a lot of odd looks but neither one seemed to care. As soon as they broke free Itachi silently took the lead. He led them outside of the buildings' confines. The sun was up but the grass was still moist.

Yahiko pulled the raven back quickly as he was about to step out onto the empty lawn. "Heads up!" he whispered in Itachi's ear and pulled him tight to his chest as they hid behind a corner. "The Father's looking for skippers."

The priest was stalking between the buildings. Itachi waited patiently for him to pass before starting across the lawn. He immediately led them down to the riverbanks. The green lawn sloped down to the water's edge, hiding them from sight. The privacy the slopes afforded made the river a popular spot for couples. The professors knew about it but only discouraged it through social stigma and scripture discounting same sex relations, only punishing those involved when there was blatant evidence. It seemed they didn't realize that in an entire school full of boys the social ladder was a tangled mess and that secret rendezvous were an essential and welcomed initiation for at least a quarter of the boys.

The further Itachi and Yahiko went towards the campus's wall the more wilderness dominated over the manicured lawn. Wildflowers and prickly weeds sprung up and then rocks broke away the smooth lawn. When they reached the small woods that extended to the boundary Yahiko became nervous- not of anyone else's opinion but for his troubled younger friend. The further a couple went from the open lawn said something to the rest of the school, especially to the _concerned _community. The impatient romps took place just down the slopes. Some friends would take dips in the river and take the natural step from sunbathing naked to making out for fun. The long grass concealed more, usually relationships that had advanced to a more dominant and submissive partner. Entering the woods was a declaration of a committed relationship and usually only eleventh or twelfth years did so. Itachi, at eighteen, was only a tenth year. For him to lead Yahiko, his senior, here would certainly raise eyebrows, especially since he'd be gone the next day, leaving the mess to Yahiko. Someone would definitely find out about this.

Yahiko knew this wasn't about sex, although that would be tomorrow's rumor. He entertained the thought of Itachi letting him take him as a last, passionate goodbye, but he'd been shot down too many times. Instead Itachi weaved through the woods silently until the atmosphere grew too heavy for Yahiko. He reached out to grab Itachi's wrist and pulled him to a stop.

"Itachi…"

The long-haired raven refused to meet his eyes. For a moment Yahiko feared it was because he was crying – the tension in Itachi's shoulders was right for it – but his eyes were dry. The grey spheres were gazing up into the flowering branches of a common laburnum tree. He did this often, became lost in the gold petals that swayed in the breeze. It made Yahiko feel lonely, knowing that he'd never share this beautiful person's thoughts.

"What do you remember when you look at the laburnum?" Yahiko asked. "Your country is so different from ours, yet I know it reminds you of home."

"It reminds me of the sakura," Itachi replied calmly, but in a way more dead and flat than natural. "And of a boy."

"Someone you loved?" Yahiko ventured cautiously.

"He isn't a person at all. To me he's just a memory. I can't even remember his name. I see him like a photograph. There aren't many but the scene changes so I must have met him more than once. Still I don't know who he is at all."

"You were young when you were sent here," Yahiko said.

Itachi chuckled sadly. "Not that young." His eyes fell from the yellow branches above. "I should remember," he whispered.

Yahiko rested his hand against Itachi's warm back. "Not everyone remembers their childhood so well. It's fragments for all of us."

"But when I see him he feels so important. Have you ever had a memory you thought was a dream? Or perhaps the other way around. It's just a flicker and you can't decide if it happened or not. If it did you always think 'wouldn't somebody else ever bring it up?' Since nobody does it never feels real."

"When people stop talking about it reality always fades into something else."

"Does it? I don't know…sometimes I think the past must be a tangible thing, yet that doesn't seem possible when I can hardly remember it."

"Itachi what did your father say? Why is he sending for you now, after all this time ignoring you?"

"My mother's dead." The wind that rustled the trees around them almost swept Itachi's voice from his lips. It made the statement a whisper in the _zaa zaa _of the moving atmosphere. "I think he killed her."

"What?" Yahiko asked, fearful of both the statement's truth and of his friend's lifeless expression.

"He kept her locked away. I remember the wall that surrounded her house and the gate that stayed close. I don't have reason to think he killed her. I just think he did. I wonder though, what changed that he felt it necessary?" He looked to his friend but Yahiko remained silent. "I used to listen to the servants. They thought she was in exile because I was the only child she could produce. They blamed it on a ridiculous myth, some rumor about her being a dragon." Itachi laughed but it was a harsh, cold sound. Yahiko had not heard his quiet friend sound so hard before, not for many years.

"But it was your father who…"

"Yes," Itachi confirmed. "I didn't know that at first and it never mattered before. But it was only my father's fault and if my mother could birth children why would he lock her away?"

"Married couples are often separated," Yahiko said.

"That may be but what about a mother and her child?" Itachi's deposition grew angry. His fingers clenched into his palms. "I never even _spoke_ with her."

Yahiko grabbed his friend into an embrace and held his bowed head to his shoulder. "You'll be fine," he promised, speaking into glossy raven hair. "Don't think about these things. Go see what your father wants from you. You can do that. You're not a child anymore Itachi. You can stand on your own." His hand tightened in Itachi's loose hair, wishing to God that his friend wasn't leaving. "And don't forget you have us."

Itachi nodded against his shoulder. "I won't," he said, voice muffled in Yahiko's jacket.

"Good." Yahiko released Itachi and they stood staring at each for a moment. "Don't let that bastard get to you," Yahiko growled.

"I won't." Itachi stepped closer and gave Yahiko a small kiss on his lips. "Thanks," he said softly.

Yahiko smiled. "Deidara's gonna be pissed if you don't give him the same goodbye."

"Probably," Itachi agreed, smiling just a bit.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

In a year when the old warrior-noble class was disappearing and business and capital were taking power over strength of arms and outdated principles, Fugaku became head of the Uchiha Shipping Company. Contracts came from the imperial family, distant relatives from which the Uchihas took root. By the time Fugaku inherited the company from his late father, their fleet of ships held a monopoly over internal shipping and garnered respect on the local shores. Under his management the family retained the authority it had since the days of feudal lords, but he shed the conservative principles of isolation and complacency that he found intolerable and expanded trading to the wealthy Briol Empire across the western sea.

The success of the new routes led to further expansion to the countries south of the Briol Empire. In three years time the Uchiha Shipping Co. doubled the size of its fleet and Fugaku ordered an expedition across the cold sea to the north. Reports returned of an extreme landscape and rough tides that destroyed ships.

The cliffs of the shore were constantly covered by the sea, assaulted by wave after wave. Clear water swept up over the rocks only to cascade down again to the seawater below. In the quiet between attacks tidepools formed in the pits and divots of the rock face. The mist that rose from this eternal clash lingered over the land, concealing the coastline that would devour ships. From the sea, it looked as if the sky had descended and the mountains rose above the clouds themselves.

Rumors told of a village that lay high in the mountains, shrouded by clouds and shadowed forests. People of an ancient race lived there and mingled with the god-like sea dragons that guarded the land. Unnatural unions of the water beasts and women afforded the people both protection and a strange beauty. It was said that the people of this village had eyes as black as the ocean glimpsed by moonlight.

Trading to the northern lands never solidified. The cost was too high for too little profit. Fugaku shut down the routes that led through the treacherous north sea- but only after he brought home a new wife. A woman who was equally beautiful and treacherous as the north sea herself.

Their first child was left untouched by her as soon as her body expelled him. She cursed the boy for his resemblance to the man who had paid the toll – the price of a bride, as if he were paying her greedy father for a sow! – and taken her from her home. Her unhappiness grew until she fought against Fugaku's right as a husband. Her vicious spirit was satisfied for a time when Fugaku became unable to have children. They could never prove it was Mikoto who poisoned him, but then nobody needed proof to know. Yet Fugaku still held her close to him unable to let her go, until, for the sake of reputation, he was forced to exile her to the inner gardens. At that time, the proof of her betrayal was undeniable.

xxx

The wood of her coffin was rough under his palms.

Her eyelids were the pale purple of a snowdrift cast in shadow; her face as pure white as the kimono that draped over her unmoving chest and gently sloping stomach. Her hands were at her sides, bluish-purple beneath her perfectly formed fingernails. The only bright color came from her lips that were coated with waxy fat and painted red to disguise how withered and bloodless the flesh truly was.

Fugaku stood over his dead wife and considered those lips that had formed nothing but lies. In all their time together she had never called him "master". Her tongue was as sharp as her black eyes and spoke a toxic, seductive language. Never had those lips spoken anything that resembled love. He wondered if she'd ever spoken words of love to the other men she'd managed to see.

He placed a bundle of flowers and herbs over her stomach. The flowers were from a man who had once loved her. The thistles that were tied to the stems would keep the insects from feeding on her until his son arrived home and they could commence the vigil and funeral. The bouquet also served to hide her stomach, just where the obi was cinched tight. Fugaku shifted the flowers twice before he was satisfied. The thick petals and leaves would hide the telling bump in her belly. Within the week she'd be in the mud of her own gardens.

xxx

For Mikoto's vigil, the Uchiha compound was under absolute silence, but even if it wasn't Itachi thought no one would know any different. The _hyoo_ of the strong wind could carry away a voice as soon as it left a person's lips. The bronze bell that hung outside clamored in the wind but even then no single _chin_ lingered for longer than a moment before being swept into the black night. The main house was deserted, leaving the lonely wind to tear at paneled doors and windows. The household had all settled down for sleep before tomorrow's funeral, all but for the beautiful youth holding vigil alone and somewhere, in a room with a single glowing lamp, an uncaring widower with a pretty young concubine tucked into his side.

Itachi knelt before his mother's body reciting the prayers in an absent murmur. His thoughts tumbled as swiftly as the wind outside, reflecting on this place – his home at one point, but no longer. He thrust thoughts of the boarding school and his friends away as soon as he realized they'd crept upon him for what seemed the hundredth time. He turned his current situation over in his mind.

He saw now that his father was a ruthless man. It disgusted him that Fugaku had taken a woman to his bedchamber on the night of his wife's vigil. Itachi realized that the young concubine must have been there a while, or others like her. How else would rumors abound of Fugaku's infertility unless his seed had been tested by others beside Mikoto? It was a rich man's right to take as many concubines as he could care for but the practice disgusted Itachi; or perhaps it was merely the women who did so. He had glimpsed Fugaku's current favorite, barely older than himself. Her small eyes were sharp over plump cheeks and skimmed over Itachi with sly intelligence. Her softness, the way her silk kimono pushed and pulled at lumps of flesh, disgusted Itachi as much as the keen looks she gave him from Fugaku's side.

Itachi used the night hours to resolve his future approach. It would take time to prove both his usefulness and loyalty to his father, yet both were needed. Itachi would not suffer a fate similar to that of his mother. In line with that goal, Itachi was determined to not seek out companionship here. For now, he would play the part of a reliable son.

The wind shifted suddenly. The cherry-red end of the incense glowed gold. In that second of dull relief from the howling noise Itachi heard the squeal of metal hinges. His eyes opened, darting from the trail of grey smoke to the trembling panes of the door. His senses were alert, but he heard nothing more as the wind picked back up into a fury. Itachi rose from the floor, driven by the blood that flowed through him as his heart hammered.

His socked feet padded over the wooden engawa silently. His grey eyes burned dry from the incense's smoke but he peered out over the yard until he saw what he sought. The tall gate to Mikoto's gardens stood gaping. It was a dark night although the sky was wide open except for a cluster of thick grey clouds that hung close to the horizon. It felt like the wind was sweeping down from the endless black heavens. The trees of Mikoto's gardens shifted constantly in the wind and the shadows with it.

So when Itachi saw a pale figure moving past the waterways inside he at first discounted his own eyes. The grace of the figure's steps was inhuman. Mikoto had once possessed the same light steps that skimmed the ground like mist over the mountaintops. Itachi thought no one but her could move like that. He passed through the groaning red gates following a ghost.

"Wait!" he called out. Even to his own ears, his voice sounded weak and insubstantial. Yet the figure paused in its steps, bodyweight centered over toes and poised for flight. The water behind captured what little light there was and a wave of pale silver lapped at the ghost's feet. The face turned towards Itachi. Disappointment panged somewhere behind his ribs instantly.

It wasn't his mother.

But he had known that. Itachi didn't believe in ghosts or spirits, Western or those of his homeland. Still, he must have held a hope, somehow, that he hadn't been left to deal with his father's manipulations alone. Despite the fact that history told him he would, even had Mikoto lived.

The disappointment etched into his eyes lingered only briefly before being swept away by another emotion. Surprise. His eyes, more silver than grey in the dim moonlight, widened with it. He didn't believe in ghosts but the legend of the dragons, the superstitions and gossip that had been so prominent in his childhood, still colored his perception, enduring even through years of scholarship.

The pale face that stared back at him wasn't Mikoto but the resemblance was apparent. The only difference was that the strong bone structure lent an obvious masculine shape to a face that could otherwise have belonged to a teenage Mikoto. With a start Itachi realized it wasn't shadow that made the wide eyes appear black but natural coloration. Dragon eyes. Lips parted but instead of capturing Itachi's attention with words his focus went to the visual of a shapely jaw and the barely visible flick of a tongue. The sound of it was lost in the relentless wind.

It was when Itachi saw the slight frown on the boy's mouth that he made a move forward. The boy took a step back.

"Wait!" Itachi called out again, reaching into the shadows that lie between them, his long fingers pale against the black. "Just... wait." His voice was faltering, afraid to startle the graceful creature away. "Who are you?"

Dark eyes watched him reproachfully. His lips parted in reply forming three distinct syllables- _Itachi_.

Itachi shivered to read his own name on that mouth and yet still it was a soundless reply. His gut twisted as a realization struck him. The masculine edge to his face wasn't the only deviation from his late mother's appearance; the boy's hair was also shorn short. A slave then.

The boy moved forward, words forming on his lips.

"Itachi!"

Itachi jolted to hear his name. His mind realized the sound of it came from behind him just as a rough hand grabbed his bicep. The force whirled him harshly around and he found his father's angry face inches from his own- but, Itachi noted with distant surprise, at least they were of an equal height now. His father's grey eyes glared harshly into his before sliding to glare out over his shoulder. After the initial surprise Itachi gathered his limbs and shoved his father away. He turned quickly to find the slave gone.

"Otou-san-."

"Out, Itachi," Fugaku ordered flatly.

Itachi held his tongue, wanting to ask a dozen questions about the slave but wanting to think carefully on how to word it so his father would answer.

Fugaku's eyes flashed at his delay. "_Out_." He clasped Itachi's shoulder, almost companionly, yet still forcefully guiding him towards the open red gates. "The beauty here will waste a man."

Fugaku's hand pushed him from the path, seeking the quickest route away from Mikoto's deserted domain. Itachi's foot crushed a small cluster of white flowers that opened to the moonlight and dew and bits of shredded greenery stuck to his feet.

"These flowers still reek of that woman's lies," Itachi heard Fugaku mutter behind him even above the static of the night wind.


End file.
